A Sound of Thunder [Rostil - Closed]

by **Nueva California Republica** » Mon Jun 03, 2013 11:30 pm

A Sound of Thunder - The OOC
For Listening

The Federal Republic of San Cristobel
San Paro, Amazonas - June 4th, 2018
04:00 Hours

Of nations and their relationships there were two with no more complex a relationship than the Federated States of California and the Federal Republic of San Cristobel. They were often enemies, sometimes friends, and at arms length to one another for over two hundred years. Hostile diplomacy marked much of their interaction with one another and yet thousands of Cristobellans every year fled their nation and all they knew under the threat of death by Californian border patrol agents in search of a better life for themselves, and likewise, thousands of Californians visited San Cristobel for its culture and tourism.

Their history was marked heavily with war, beginning first in 1884, again in 1917, and again in 1980. 1983 marked the last time that Californian and Cristobellan soldiers had met one another in battle, and every day since that day, the generals and tacticians on both sides had been preparing, strategizing and drawing up the plans for the dreaded Inevitable Fourth.

All the while they prepared for war, they moved to forge a lasting peace, a permanent peace and not just a lull of silence in between the killings. Now, that peace was in sight, at long last that peace was in sight. Through the days and the nights they had argued and debated at length, the Presidents of both nations had met with heated words and nationalistic anger directed towards one another but they had come to agreements, agreements not before made between the two states in over two centuries, the precursors to a long and prosperous peace between their two peoples.

The ink on the Treaty of San Paro was still drying when the Californians decided it was time to leave the nation of San Cristobel; the Secret Service was pulling out of the city as the President and her security detail boarded Marine One and made for the San Paro International Airport in the earliest hours of the morning, before the sun had yet to rise above the horizon. "All in all, a job well done ma'am." The voice of SecStat Derick Johnson rang through a secured satellite phone pressed to the President's ear as she sat down groggily in the belly of the VH-60N that served as Marine One; beside her, her equally tired personal assistant Nancy didn't wait on ceremony before she immediately fell back to sleep; as well as there were two Secret Service Agents, Donald and Athena, the usual window-dressing Marines were not present, though the pilot and co-pilot of the helicopter were both of the FSMC.

Marine One lurched skyward at exactly four o'clock in the morning local time; making south-southwest for San Paro International Airport, it was a trip that would end incomplete and lead to that which both nations had been dreading for over twenty years.

The Federal Republic of San Cristobel
Cristobellan Air Space - 04:30 Hours
Marine One

The Helicopter had continued on its flight for a half-hour, the sun was beginning to creep up on the horizon and San Paro's airport was another fifteen minutes out from their position, though the distance was rapidly closing. The President and her aide were fast asleep, leaving the crew and security detail to stand the vigil of the flight between their point of departure and their destination. Lieutenant Daniel Waters was the pilot of the helicopter; and the first to respond at the string of events that began with the whining of a radar lock on his helicopter. There was no thought that followed, or instinct, but drilled and disciplined clinical reaction as he and his co-pilot did all within their power to avoid the FIM-92 Stinger Missile that flew up to meet them, the VH-60N rose as sharply as it could manage before it dived downward while simultaneously weaving, though it was for naught. The Stinger exploded off the helicopter's port side and peppered it with shrapnel, the helicopter was lightly armored enough that it was not a threat to those inside it, however the missile's shrapnel wrought havoc on the delicate machinery that propelled the helicopter's blades.

Marine One jarred violently as it began to lose altitude as its blades failed to continue spinning just as another stinger missile came up and exploded towards the helicopter's rear, the shrapnel from it sheering the tail of the helicopter off which now began a radical tumble towards the ground. Inside the cabin it was all that Lieutenant Waters could do to hold on to some semblance of control of the situation which had spiraled beyond his ability to do so. He braced himself for impact, bellowing that his passengers and more importantly, his commander-in-chief, should do the same mere seconds before the helicopter landed against the ground with a horrendous crash of metal, a flash of fire and the ringing of shattering glass and the upsetting of soft Earth.

On impact, both Daniel Waters and his co-pilot were killed; and it was not much better for the rest of the passengers. Agent Donald Masterson tried to stand, his consciousness fading rapidly as he did so, only to collapse once again, letting out a scream of agony due to his shattered right leg and equally broken left arm. Athena Winters fared better and with a heave that she put all of her bodyweight behind shoved open the crumbled doors of the helicopter before she fell back down to the floor; she did not however, allow herself to black out, this was not the time for such a thing. Gathering every possible ounce of strength she had Agent Winters turned her attentions to the President who was unconscious; a shallow gash across her forehead that was running blood freely down her face. "Goddammit Masterson, why do you have to go and break your leg now of all fucking times." Athena growled as she unbuckled the President from her seat, the woman's limp body falling into the agent's arms.

"I fucking assure you it was not planned." Agent Masterson hissed between his teeth as he used the furnishings of the helicopter and his remaining good leg to stand, no matter how agonizing it was. "Nancy, Nancy! Are you dead?" He managed to yell in between the free flowing stream of tears of pain rolling down his face, Nancy Reed got the least of their damages, as, dutifully; she wore the harness meant to keep her in place just in case something like this happened.

"I'm stuck!" Nancy's mousy voice choked against her suffocation by the same thing that saved her life before Agent Winters pulled a sharp non-regulation utility knife from her pocket, idly thankful it had not stabbed her in the leg during the crash, and cut the harness from around Reed, who immediately took in several deep gulps of air. Agent Winters climbed out of the wreckage of the VH-60N first, her standard issue Glock 23 firmly in hand as she scanned the area for potential, inevitable threats. Masterson and Reed struggled to pass the President up and out of the helicopter, though after several minutes they managed it with Reed climbing out next and settling the President carefully on the ground outside of the helicopter.

Agent Masterson did not by any means immediately join them, he had crawled to the cockpit, ignoring the sickeningly broken figures of Daniel Waters and his co-pilot who looked like they had both been run through a woodchipper. Still trying to hold on to his waking mind he yanked the emergency medical kit out from behind Waters's seat before crawling back to the passenger compartment and tossing it up and out. A marvel to his immense strength of spirit not to mention his upper body strength, Masterson pulled himself up and out of the side-tossed helicopter, though with great effort and like Winters, he immediately scanned the area for threats before with Nancy Reed's help, tore open the EMK and set about splinting is leg while Winters applied smelling salts to President Sanchez's nose to wake her up.

"What in the fuck just happened?" The President gasped out before clutching her forehead only to have her hands swatted away by Winters.

"Fucking Cristobellans is what happened, we offer them niceness and friendship and here's the message that Molina bitch sends."

"They can't be this stupid...They just can't be?" Julia stuttered half out of disbelief while Winters tried to bandage her forehead.

"Ma'am, the fact we just got shot down and lost not only two Marines but nearly ourselves shows just how stupid the Cristobellans are." The Agent said vindictively as she applied gauze to Julia's wound. The small cadre patched themselves up as best as they could before Agent Winters swung herself back down into the wreckage of their transport, looking very specifically for something. In the ruins of the cockpit with all the force her legs could muster she kicked a large-ish handle twice before it swung forward, a low-tone beeping erupted from the smashed console, running on thankfully undamaged auxiliary batteries; a GPS beacon for them to be picked up...eventually.

When Winters climbed back out of the helicopter however the less than normal day took a turn for the worse. They were surrounded. Men in the markings of the Cristobellan Army had their rifles trained on them before a man of rank, a Colonel by the looks of it, stepped forward, hardly intimidated by either Masterson's or Winters sidearms in comparison to the two dozen FN-FNCs pointing at the four of them.

"I desire if you two value your lives, you will throw down your arms. We are here for the President, surrender and you will live, refuse, and you will die." His English was bad, but passable. Both Agents looked defiant, surrender? No, it went against everything they swore to do as agents of the Secret Service, surrendering the President of the Federated States to an enemy was not an option, death was indeed, preferable; President Sanchez however, did not allow it; she raised a hand subtly.

"Do as he says, we don't have a choice." She didn't say it in English, nor in Spanish as it was too close to Cristobellan but in Ameri; begrudgingly, the agents threw their arms down.

"You will come with us now." The Cristobellan said simply before his men converged to take them.

The Federated States of California
Hiawathiopolis - The White House
Office of the Vice President of the Federated States
09:00 Hours - June 4th, 2018

The Secretary of State, Derick Johnson strode into the vice presidential office with a look on his face so grim that surely his own mother must have just died, or so thought the Vice President of the Federated States, Wayra Tenskwatawa. He was flanked by General Soren Blackwell of the Federated States Army, as well as General Bryan Kenton of the Federated States Air Force, who both shared similar visages as the SecStat.

"Ma'am I will cut to the chase because we do not have the time for bullshit." Secretary Johnson spoke both quickly and angrily. "As you know madam, The Madame President has been for the last eight days in the Republic of San Cristobel finalizing the Treaty of San Paro between our two nations. I regret to inform you however that it appears that San Cristobel's signing of the San Paro Treaty has been nothing more than a ruse." He breathed, raggedly and quickly before continuing

"Ma'am, I regret to inform you that as of 04:45 hours this morning due to the loss of all contact with Marine One during its flight from San Paro, San Cristobel; you are now until such a time that we retrieve or confirm the death of; President Julia Marie Sanchez; The Acting President of the Federated States of California as so decreed by the Twenty-Fifth Amendment to the Federated States Constitution. Ma'am I further regret to inform you that as this is a direct act of war against the Federated States of California and an obvious attempt on the life of and in the attempt of the assassination of the President of the Federated States, we are at a state of war with the Federal Republic of San Cristobel; so authorized by the Congress of the Federated States of California as of 08:00 this morning as you are now aware."

Wayra Tenskwatawa looked like she had been slapped. The tiny Mohawk woman drew in a sharp breath before she ran her fingers through her graying brown hair before setting them to her sides once more. "Gentlemen. I accept the mantle of this duty with a heavy heart, we can do the ceremonial bullshit another time; alert the Joint Chiefs, contact Aerospace Command, raise alert status to DEFCON 2." Wayra was walking rapidly now as the men fell in behind her as they made their way towards the Oval Office on the other side of the building. "General Blackwell, your 8th Army on the border is to spearhead into San Cristobel before the Cristobellans can respond. General Kenton, the air force is to interdict into San Cristobel immediately and shut down their airspace; nothing gets in or out without an F-22 shoving something up its ass."

The small group had moved into the Oval Office at last when she continued, snapping at an aide. "Get the Joint Chiefs in here. Gentlemen, the day we've all been awaiting has arrived. The San Cristobellans have tried our patience for the last time; I will issue a statement to them and their little friends... May Athena have mercy on them; we will not."

From the Desk of the President of the Federated States of California

So Addressing: President Águeda Molina of the Federal Republic of San Cristobel and the Presidents and varied Heads of State of the Member-States of the Democratic League.

At 04:45 Hours this morning on this day, June the Fourth of the year two thousand eighteen anno domini, the Federated States of California and its leadership were deliberately and violently assaulted by the military forces of the Federal Republic of San Cristobel. In result of this attack the President of the Federated States of California has been declared missing and unreachable, presumed to be dead until proven otherwise. This is a direct act of war towards the Federated States of California by the Federal Republic of San Cristobel a nation that we until this morning were in talks with about the maintenance of a lasting peace between our two nations. The assassination of President Sanchez will be answered with one response, and one response only.

There now exists between the Federated States of California and the Federal Republic of San Cristobel a State of War. This state of war shall persist until such a time of the utter defeat of San Cristobel's military forces. Concerning the Democratic League; this conflict does not in any way concern you; withdraw your assets from San Cristobel and no more will come of this than your leaving. Our conflict is with them, and them alone.

We are done playing games, little Aztecans; you have tempted fate, now you will die for it.

So Authorized by the Congress of the Federated States of California and Acting President of the Federated States of California Wayra Tenskwatawa

Minerva Victorix!

by **Nueva San Cristobel** » Tue Jun 04, 2013 1:54 am

The Federal Republic of San Cristobel
Brasilia - June 4th, 2018 - 9:30 AM

The Capital of San Cristobel was in an uproar, life which had been normal up until just a half hour before was now thrown into disarray. Across the nation, San Cristobel's armies readied themselves for that which they had been preparing for for over three decades. Army groups were mobilizing while the navy readied its ships and the air force raced against time to gain their own airspace before the Californians bore down upon their heads. Through it all, Águeda Molina was...unusually calm. She held on to a level of levelheadedness somehow; because that's what people in power had to do when shit hit the fan, because people looked to them for answers. Molina was this way for two reasons, one was her keeping a level of professionalness while another was just sheer shock; California had finally done it, they had finally gone insane. She walked numbly through the corridors of her residence towards her office, where all the heads of San Cristobel's armed forces waited; even now, militias were forming, men were digging in, no orders were needed, not yet; everyone knew what to do in these opening hours, they had known for years and years what they would do, each new generation being taught to move to the same oiled plan.

She sighed darkly before she turned the golden knob to the oaken door and entered, if this was her test, she could not claim she was unwilling to receive it; let them come...The men gathered around stood and saluted when she entered the room before she waved a numb hand and they resumed their stances. "Ma'am." General of the Armies Natanael Vargas spoke up as she crossed the room coming to stand behind her desk, eyes fixated on the chaos that was Brasilia's streets outside.

"Californian elements have already crossed into the borders, our forces are mustering as planned."

"Well done, General Vargas, well done; you have kept them prepared." Molina sucked in a breath before she turned around and spoke evenly. "We have awaited this day for thirty five years, gentlemen. We have prepared, we have trained, we have laid in wait. Today begins the final round, the Inevitable Fourth is upon us. We will not disappoint them. Two million brave young men stand ready to defend our Glorious Republic; let the Californians come, we will meet them, and may this war decide the next hundred years." It wasn't a speech, she was saving that; it did earn a few nods from her generals though. "Before we go further, tell me what we've got on why they've done this."

"As you know ma'am, yourself and President Sanchez of California have for the past four days decided the Treaty of San Paro, which is aimed at bringing our nations closer together and putting to rest our hostilities towards one another once and for all." Fernando Freitas, the Secretary of State started. "These negotiations concluded without incident as we know, and all was well until sometime early this morning when the helicopter carrying President Sanchez was shot down in Amazonas."

"I assure you madam President, we had absolutely nothing to do with it." General Vargas cut in; "We suspect it to be the work of the Liberation Front but that is a secondary matter at this point. The Californians believe that we willingly murdered their president after roping them in for what by now is probably viewed as false pretenses."

"As a result of her being shot down, the Californians have declared war on us, we have twenty four hours to surrender, or well madam, we see a repeat of 1980 on a larger scale."

"I see...Well, gentlemen, I think we can all agree that surrender is not an option. This is our land, our people they are threatening, and that is not something which I will allow to stand. Gentlemen...We are at war with the Federated States of California."

Guiomar Serafim Ground Force Base
State of Amazonas - Republic of San Cristobel
7th San Cristobellan Army - General Chico Nunes
9:30 AM

Guiomar Serfim Ground Force Base was the closest military installation to the Cristobellan-Californian border; built in the plainy region between San Cristobel's jungles and swamps. It hosted the 7th San Cristobellan Army who had all trained with the dark auspicion that one day this would be their fate, the first line of defense between the armies of California and the rest of sacred San Cristobel. The 7th Army was a thirty two thousand man strong army of mechanized infantry with light complements of armor and artillery; they were meant for one purpose, really; to hold the Californians long enough for the rest of the Cristobellan Army to ready themselves for the brutal defensive war that was yet to come. General Chico Nunes had known this mission for over twenty years, and yet he had never expected the day that it would actually happen; but happen it did.

His morning which had been quiet was interrupted by the screaming of rockets and the thunder of guns; the sonic-boom of fighter jets and the drone of helicopter gunships. The Californians had sent their most famous and duly skilled officer of war to put down General Nunes, he knew this by intuition, never mind the intelligence reports that had reconfirmed what he suspected. Soren Blackwell was forty four years old, he had fought in the Third Californian-Cristobellan War, and then again in Africa alongside the Ameri in the 90s, and again in Asran. He knew war; he knew it well, and the patience of his nickname as a 'sit and wait' general, was not being done justice as Nunes's world exploded around him.

Californian artillery units had been peppering his border region for the last half hour as their aircraft made sorties over his head, SEAD planes darting down on top of him and blowing his AA and AAA stations into slag inside of minutes to say nothing of Californian efficiency. Alongside that the reports from his scouts counted a force of no less than forty thousand Californians, and he knew that was just the tip of the spear. Nunes's own force mobilized as quickly and efficiently as possible and still was not fully ready for battle when he sent three rifle regiments and his only armored company to halt the Californian advance before it began, it was a desperate measure meant to buy him more time, to buy San Cristobel more time; the great plans drawn up over the last thirty five years had all depended on the Cristobellan ability to dig in, to use their knowledge of their homeland against the Californians as they came down upon them.

Already had Nunes begged for air support from Norra Ground Force Air Station, an Eslovakian air base, how soon it arrived, if it ever arrived; he dared not to guess at; which is why equally so he begged for support from Araullo Air Force Base, the nearest Cristobellan Air Force Base; which was scrambling its own forces desperately as well to stop the flood of Californian fighter jets and other aerial assets that were coming down on all of their heads. He had already heard that Victorino Ground Force Air Station, a Cristobellan installation in the southern swamps, had been annihilated already by Californian preemptive strikes; and could only pander to guess how long it would be until Californian Marines came from Peurto Rico and Costa Luna.

The General ran his hands through his hair as he went over a thousand different scenarios in his head, none of them ending well for him and his men; but he knew this, he accepted it. "Hold them as long as we can lads! That is our job, nothing else! We bleed them until the last of us falls!" He yelled with false enthusiasm to his command staff who nodded grimly in response. The weight of the world was falling down on their shoulders and as it did so, a single thought crossed Nunes's mind'; "Is this how they felt when they were fighting Britannia?"

Border town of Corpus Christi
Cristobellan National Militia - Victor Hernandez
9:30 AM

Victor Hernandez was fifty eight years old, he had faithfully completed his national service and fought in the Third War against California, he had never dreamed he would be doing so once more. He had left the Army as he entered it, as a Private; he was not some great tactician or military leader; but none the less, he was the leader of his chapter of the Cristobellan National Militia; an irregular force organized by Congress for one purpose; Partisan Warfare. He kept this darkly in mind as himself and around ten other men stood around with uniform equipment and light body armor, armed with FN-FALs as opposed to the army's newer FN-FNCs. They were waiting, just waiting, for the Californians to arrive; they hadn't yet.

For the last half hour the sky had been filled with the sounds of war, of rockets and bombs, of fighter jets and the sight of helicopters screaming by overhead; it took much for Victor to keep from running away, not out of cowardice, but common sense; his Militia would not last a minute against the professionally trained soldiers of the Federated States Army, despite most of them being former soldiers themselves. All of them were scared, there was no point in trying to hide it, and he had no doubt, soon most of them would be dead; if not all of them. Corpus Christi was directly on the Californian border, a town of eight hundred people; the vast majority of whom were now running for their lives, deeper into their country, no doubt a similar sight was occurring up and down the border as the little border towns evacuated, all those who remained were either Cartels and their private armies, or militia like Victor's.

"We are going to die." Tadeu Ferreira, a baker muttered darkly as he checked his rifle for the fourth time.

"Yes, we are; accept that now." Victor responded just as darkly, but if they were to die; it would be in attempt to take some of the invaders with them.

From The Desk of the President of the Republic of San Cristobel

To: The Vice-President of the Federated States of California, Wayra Tenskwatawa

Madam Vice-President, We are entirely unaware of that which you speak of and beseech you to withdraw your troops from our lands and to end this war before it begins; as it will lead only to senseless and unneeded death. We have made no attempt on the life of President Julia Sanchez of California, we have just finished negotiating a treaty designed to prevent this very event which you are bringing upon us! However; as you know, San Cristobel is a sovereign and independent nation, and the lives of over two hundred million people depend on our government to defend them. We cannot, Madam Vice-President, surrender ourselves to the whims of the Californian War Machine. We will fight you in the fields, in the towns and in the cities, in the air and at sea until such a time we are both battered and bloodied and neither of us wish to continue the fight. San Cristobel formally recognizes your declaration of war, and counters with our own.

May God, Who is Greatest of All, Have Mercy upon us both for that which we are about to do.

Sincerely,
Águeda Molina - President of the Federal Republic of San Cristobel

by **Eslovakia** » Tue Jun 04, 2013 1:07 pm

Norra Ground Force Air Base, Underground Bunker, State of Amazonas
Republic of San Cristobel, Rostil —June 4th, 2018

The 650 km2 large base situated in the middle of the Amazonian jungle filled with several buildings and open spaces for use of the DL ground personnel on training as well as part of the 5th Army, WESROSCOM that formed the Eslovakian contingent in the country which was there to act in the interests of the DL and the San Cristobellan government, a perk of being part of the DL knowing allies had your back in the worst of times. General Jakob Bengt Åkerberg, head of the ground forces in WESROSCOM overseeing army operations for the DL in the area, an ex-member of the Eslovakian Foreign Force. Previously enlisting in the Eslovakian Foreign Force after his life turned upside down now formed one of the higher echelons of the Eslovakian chain of command. His nationality, ethnic background and expertise of his home country put him as the fore running candidate in the position for the leadership of the Eslovakian army in San Cristobel, his expertise of his native land would be second to none.

The base had been relatively unscratched by the onslaught brought on by the Californian forces but by no means were the forces standing idly by as their allies were being slaughtered in the nearby areas, yet no operations were authorized to be launched without direct permission from the Armed Forces Command back in Zinkenstamm, Eslovakia. The FRA stationed in the base which operated the SIGINT site on base intercepted and decrypted the messages exchanged by the Californians and the San Cristobellan, they were by no means behind in the web of information, satellite reconnaissance and extensive activity by the Eslovakian Cyber Force made sure the Eslovakian forces now on standby for operations were not caught off guard and all operations be able to be conducted within moments notice.

As per protocol, the WESROSCOM leadership in each of their respective bases retreated to their underground bunkers after FÖRVILL reached level 4, the second highest on the system. FÖRVILL 4 was for now limited to WESROSCOM but the remaining global forces were on high alert as FÖRVILL 3 was initiated for safety. Inside the bunker, the general had full oversight of the operations being taken and a direct link to Eslovakia for any updates on operations. The War Simulation and Calculation Computer System, a supercomputer based in the GÖRA Research Facility deep inside the Kebknkaise Mountains in northern Eslovakia fed new attack and defence plans to the WESROSCOM leaders whenever the situation changed on the ground to put the odds best in their favour. Always.

A computer flickered before changing channel from previously war maps to a symbol of the San Cristobellan army, the subtext reading '7th San Cristobellan Army - General Chico Nunes', an audio feed played the sounds of soldier pleading for air support from the base as the sounds of munitions crashing around him in the background could be clearly heard. The General listened on as he grasped tightly onto one of the rails that edged of the glass, infuriated that he was bound and unable to take action.

"What should I respond sir?" asked the officer manning the computer. The general failed to reply as he looked onto the screen depicting the Joint Chiefs of Staff logo waiting for a response, his mind ignoring his surroundings. "Sir?"

The General snapped out of his concentration and looked on to the officer, "What?"

"Orders?"

"...tell them we c-" before the General could finish, the JCS screen changed to the sight of an old man in his elegant military uniform topped with shiny medals and ribbons as well as marks depicting his rank and branch.

"General, the President herself has given you special permissions to enact Section 3.d. However, for now you are limited to the assets of Western Rostil Command until further updates. Good luck general and show them what you're made of. För Eslovakia i Tiden." said the man as the General himself broke into an uncontrollable smile at the news. He simultaneously gave thumbs up to the officer awaiting orders marking the switch to an operational go to the ground forces standing by.

"Thank you sir. We'll beat these fuckers down. För Eslovakia i Tiden!" he replied before the screen returned to its default state.

"Operation Iris is a go! Iris is go!" blared out the general as he made his to his office. "Prepare the forces!"

Norra Ground Force Air Base, State of Amazonas
Republic of San Cristobel, Rostil — June 4th, 2018

Four Natteravn fighters took to the air to intercept the intruding air forces in the area whilst an E-3 Sentry aircraft took off from Krigshamn Air Force Base to provide support to all allied aircraft in the combat zone. A single Saab 2000 aircraft took from one of the two runways in Norra GFAB but it was no ordinary aircraft, it was packed with FRA equipment designed to jam their radars as well as filled with Signals intelligence equipment to help the Eslovakian Cyber Force launch malicious attacks on the Californian military software who had laid in wait for years for the right moment.

The BMEWS in Krigshamn was reinforced with additional protection from both the ground and sea whilst the Counter Stealth Radar System had sprung to life across the country. SAM launchers were strategically positioned in all Eslovakian bases to form the integrated air defence system that could easily be worked with alongside San Cristobellan forces following technical changes from Karlberg Industries AB. Any intrusions from stealth aircraft would be met with new and advanced K42 Natteravn fighter aircraft, specifically designed to outperform the F-22 and PAK-FA whilst the CSRS would deal with stealth missiles that would try and rip down the integrated air defence in place. The Eslovakians could maintain the air, it was up to the San Cristobellans to hold the ground.

The tarmac at the air base was filled with five Falken Dropships holding members of the Eslovakian Foreign Force which included several nationalities but had all been trained and familiarized with the local landscapes, the Jungel training complex had allowed all the forces stationed in San Cristobel to receive cohesion training in order to maximise the efficiency of working together with local forces as well as drilling jungle warfare into as if it were their main talents. 120 EFF troops were inside the drop ships that waited take off, three held utility vehicles capable of traversing difficult terrains for reconnaissance and the other two held large supply canisters to resupply ground forces to help them hold their ground. Within minutes of completing final checks, the aircraft simultaneously take off in a vertical fashion, a an amazing sight to see first hands as their high bypass turbofan engines roared as it flew the new drop ships into the combat zones.

"Good morning ladies and welcome to Falken Airlines, unfortunately we couldn't afford an air hostess to demonstrate flight safety but statistically speaking, you're safer here than in a car. The local time is 9:56 and the weather is sunny, destination is hell with lots of turbulence ahead. So buckle the fuck up!" blared out the co-pilot on the overhead speakers in one of the drop ships whilst it sped towards the front lines covered by fighters above though it was capable of avoiding missile fire to a degree autonomously as they were each fitted with an ECM pods but there was no place for complacency in the army. "All jokes aside, we're heading into some heavy shit and the Cristobellans requested support. It's nasty and from what i see here right now, it’s worse than it looks. Air space is contested so don't hope for much CAS. Objectives are to hold that line and recon the areas. Provide SITREP to command. You are the eyes and ears of the incoming force so it is imperative you get your info asap. För Eslovakia i tiden you ugly fuckers. ETA in 2!"

Democratic League Chamber, Södermanland and Upplands Province, Ekaterinberg
Eslovakia, Rostil — 2nd May April, 2018

The San Cristobellan delegate had finished speaking his piece to the on looking delegates that represented that each member state in the league. The podium stood high amongst the encircling tables in the large hall, flanked by two DL flags on its side whilst a massive engraved DL lay above the speaker’s position. The speaker of the chamber slammed his hammer down repeatedly as he tried to maintain order in the room as the delegates quarrelled with themselves in the room.

"Silence! Silence!" shouted the speaker as he hammered down once more. "Birghitta Ohlsson of the Eslovakian Delegation, you have 5 minutes as speaker for the proposition of the enactment of section 3.d. on the San Cristobellan crisis.

The hall ushered into silence as the sound of Ohlssons high heels clacked around the podium. Translators prepared themselves who sat inside the tinted windows watching over the chamber as they prepared to translate for their respective delegations. Ohlsson made her way up to the podium, greeted by the San Cristobellan delegation as he stepped off.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand with our allies today in this difficult moment that they are facing. Sources have indicated the source of the problem but this is no time to point fingers but to bring the tables and chairs and talk this out like civil folks. We understand the grievances felt by the Californian people in this difficult moment and our hearts are with them at this difficult time. But, this does not warrant for rash and ill thought actions! We must diplomatically resolve this crisis to prevent the serious loss of life in both parties! I will not however be naive, if this possibility becomes impossible and the Californian government refuses to come to the negotiation tables to peacefully resolve, we must unfortunately recognize that a state of war exist between us and them as an attack on one is an attack on all. I do not endorse conflict but I hope member states will see the necessary actions that will need to be taken to ensure this conflict ends promptly with minimal loss of life. Under authority from the federal government, I formally lodge proposal 0009 of the Democratic League. Thank you.

Eslovakian Embassy, Hiawathiopolis, New York State
Federated States of California, Rostil — June 4th, 2018

The large building housing the Eslovakian Embassy had been closed off since hostilities began south of the country. Consulates elsewhere remained open only for passport services to the Nordic citizens in the country. Non essential staff had already left and only a skeleton crew remained. Those who remained began destroying papers whilst the FRA and MUST staff inside the embassy assisted the staff and sent situational reports to Eslovakia on the embassy. The Eslovakian Cyber Force had already acted before the embassy staff had been alerted to act, several kill codes were sent into the embassy transferring all data home before destroying the electronic equipment in the embassy. Files were already being prepared to be sent to the Skandian embassy to resume an Eslovakian high representation there which was the protocol when one Nordic embassy was shut down. The staff worked their way through piles of paper as they tried to get rid of many papers as possible before what they through would be the inevitable would happen. Seizure.

by **Star Trek America** » Tue Jun 04, 2013 5:52 pm

La République Couronée de l'Amérique
Merel-Avren - Office of the First Minister of l'Amérique
June 4th, 2018 - 09:30 Hours

First Minister of the Crowned Republic, Adrienne Anaïs Beaumont visibly shuddered when the Californian Ambassador to Amerique entered her office. The Breton woman knew what he was going to say before he said it, choose your side. She clicked her tongue twice before she spoke or even moved from behind her desk, she could not deny that San Cristobel had not brought this one on themselves; signing treaties for peace and then assassinating the person who had legitimized that treaty was not the shining pinnacle of competence in any form. "Get out, Henry." Adrienne said weakly after a moment, the Californian did not move.

"Madam First Minister; as you are no doubt aware, the Federated States of California after having the highest echelons of its leadership assaulted, has declared a state of war on the Federal Republic of San Cristobel." Henry Weston spoke very good Ameri, there was no accent, he was rapid and to the point, and with each word he suppressed the First Minister even more into a dower and gray state. "As of this moment; the Californian Armed Forces are moving to occupy San Cristobel for this irreparable action they have filed against us." Ambassador Weston settled his eyes on the First Minister before he spoke in very clear Californian English. "It is time for you to decide where you stand; with us, or with them."

Adrienne Beaumont rolled her tongue against her teeth and rung her hands against one another worriedly, all the time with Weston examining her with a calculating, expecting eye. Minutes ticked by as she sat in silence, puzzling over and tumbling the event over in her head again and again, it was a hard decision; who meant more to La Republique? The Californians who they had been allied to for over a hundred years, or the Democratic League whom they had been tied to for a mere two?

"Ambassador Weston, I beseech you to return to your embassy. Your President will have my answer within the hour, I must confer to the Ameri government, you understand I am sure?" The First Minister finally said, to which the Ambassador nodded and relieved the room of his presence while Minister Beaumont picked up her telephone, suddenly very limp. "Summon the Senate and the King. We have a situation on our hands that requires immediate answering." Her voice was hoarse and weak, as though she'd been winded and her mouth dried with cotton.

"What did those stupid backwaters do?" The thought flew through Beaumont's head as she stood to leave and make her way to the Hall of the Senate.

La République Couronée de l'Amérique
Merel-Avren - Hall of the Senate
June 4th, 2018 - 10:00 Hours

The First Minister entered the chamber of the combined houses of the Ameri Senate in a hurry, her coat still over her shoulders and no pause in her step until she came to stand behind the podium at the center of the floor. The Senators sat around, awaiting for her address that would settle the confusion once and for all on whom did l'Amérique stand with.

"We have no time, gentlemen; so I shall speak and you shall listen. The decision of this government has already been made, I have already sent out orders to our armed forces and already they move on those orders...Gentlemen; we are at war, we are at war with the Democratic League and all those who make up its numbers, because gentlemen; this government is comprised of the Ameri, and it is not the puppet government of some viking war-queen, it is not the puppet-government of some drug-pushing South Irkhallan bimbo, and it will not stand idly by while its greatest ally for the last hundred years is assaulted by half the world for defending itself! We march off to war and to victory, in the name of the spirit of Napoleon Bonaparte who first made this Republique a reality, in the name of the House of Marianas and in the name of the Senate and People of l'Amérique, in the defense of the Federated States of California, our ally and friend!"

La République Couronée de l'Amérique
Le'Harve - Le'Harve Naval Air Station
June 4th, 2018 - 10:15 Hours

While the First Minister gave her fiery speech, the loyal sons of l'Amérique moved to forward the will of the Senate and People of La Republique. The Ameri contingent of men and material in Le'Harve Naval Air Station moved with a professional speed of great haste; running ahead of a broadcast that had not yet gone public, a timeclock they were trying to beat. Three thousand Ameri men of the Ameri Naval Infantry Force; Marines, moved throughout the naval base with an expedient purpose; to seize control of their own land. The hulking forms of AMX-56 Leclerc MBTs rolled out into the base, also part of the marine contingent; their swivel mounted machine guns pointing menacingly at duly confused Eslovak soldiers, sailors and airmen. It took only ten minutes to secure the entire base with Ameri troops everywhere, their rifles and guns poised and ready for the possibility of looming conflict when a voice boomed over the base.

"My name is Commandant-General Morgan Gagnier of the Ameri Grand Armee. Eslovakian personnel; by the sovereign order of the Republique of l'Amérique you are hereby ordered to throw down your arms and evacuate your vehicles. You are wards of the Ameri state until further notice, attempts to resist this lawful detainment shall be met with lethal force. You have two minutes to surrender yourselves." As Commandant-General Gagnier's voice boomed over loudspeakers across the base and as Ameri troops held themselves at the ready, Ameri vessels blocked the harbor's exit and trained their weapons and guns on both Eslovakian vessels in harbor, and inland towards their barracks.

From the Desk of the King of La République Couronée de l'Amérique

Time is short and as is this letterhead, as of 10:15 Hours this morning on the date of June the 4th, 2018; La République Couronée de l'Amérique hereby resigns its commissions to the Democratic League and the Organization of Economic Cooperation and International Development by Royal Order of Charles Marianas IV, King of the Ameri and the Bretons. In addition to these resignations, we tender immediately a State of War between ourselves and the Democratic League in accordance of the Ameri-Californian Alliance. All Democratic League Assets in l'Amérique have been seized and all personnel detained until such a time this conflict has come to its swift end.

So Ordered,
Charles Marianas IV - King of l'Amérique
Adrienne Beaumont - First Minister of l'Amérique

by **Grand Britannia and Hibernia** » Tue Jun 04, 2013 6:41 pm

Albion- 22 Acacia Avenue, The Right Honourable Jonathan Reedstone, Prime Minister of the United Kingdoms

Jonathan Reedstone was no soldier; he was a large, rotund man, with a kindly speech and noble gait. The Prime Minister, unlike in many other nations, was not in control of the Monarchy- His Royal Majesty was no doubt in control, though Reedstone would never admit it. However, when there were matters that required him to take charge, he indeed would. This was the case when, late in the afternoon, the First Lord received an urgent phone call.
"Reedstone?"
"W-why yes, who is this?
"Foreign Minister Black"
"What's the meaning of this, Jackson? It's bloody 11 at night!"
"California, Your Right Honor."
"What about it? Another Cartel trafficking over the border? For God's sake, why do I need to be inv-"
"It's not that simple, Jon. Cristobellans made a direct attempt to...remove President Sanchez
"Wha- God dammit. Send our best Agents in the FSC to the Pentagon. Immediately.
The Minister replied in an archaic manner, referring to the Prime Minister's Noble birth-"Yes, milord."

The Pentagon, FSC- Agents Mosi and O'Leagh, RI Ward 5
"This the place?" Royal Intelligence, Ward 5 Agent Quinn O'Leagh asked his Mauretanian partner.
"You see any other buildings with Five sides and security like His Maj?" Agent Thema Mosi responded, readying her badge
"Touche, Miss."
They reached the entrance of the Californian Military headquarters. Mosi flipped open her badge, putting it into the light.
"RI5, sent by the Royal Government. Step aside and take it up with Albion." O'Leagh brushed past the Soldiers, holding the door for Thema.
"Thankyou, sir," she responded, her Xhosa accent rather thick.
"No problem, m'lady," Quinn said in mock seriousness, his own Irish brogue being plain.
They walked along, finding the congregation of Generals and officials. Eyes fell to them
"Agent O'Leagh," Quinn introduced himself."Agent Mosi," Thema finished,"RI5. I assume the Prime Minister sent message ahead of time? Or are we unexpected?"

by **Eslovakia** » Tue Jun 04, 2013 7:37 pm

Blue House, Command and Control Center Ekaterinberg, Södermanland and Upplands Province
Eslovakia, Rostil —June 4th, 2018

President Seo Hye Rim sat in her high chair overlooking staff working at the posts with high end computers, head sets attached to ears as they strolled around the room with papers and equipment. The day was more hectic than usual, shadows of the extra running about reflected of the largegovernment seal that lay engraved onto the ceiling, the shadows of the staff flickering on and off from it. She sat starring at the screen CCTV cameras from the Le Havre base, the joint DL base shared between the Ameriqan and Eslovakian forces, or once was.

"Lieutenant!" she ordered as he snapped to attention. "Le Havre SITREP."

"All cameras indicate Eslovakian personnel out of operational facility and air base. Transportation to barracks has commenced. Motion sensors pick out mild activity in command room, CCTV has been lock out from there. As for the supercomputer, the base commander used voice recognition to lock down." replied the Lieutenant reading key points from his iPad.

"How far has lock down gone in?" asked the President sipping water from the cup on the side of her chair.

"Completed 5 minutes ago, they won't be able to access the aircraft other than the 8 Gripen fighters on the tarmac and the one AWACS. The Cyber Force has activated protocol kill codes." he replied. "Access to the hangars however can be breached with enough force, say...5-10 tank shells or enough demolition charges on the blast doors of the hangars. Do you still want to pursue?"

"Yes. Contact the director general, ask if he can alter the codes to avoid hangars, might be able to get them back after the conflict without them getting access to them." she replied.

"Yes, ma'am."

The Presidents phone vibrated on the stand that was hooked onto the chair, - Foreign Ministry - it read providing the option of answer and reject. She promptly inserted the ear piece, flinging her long hair back in the process before answering the phone without the need to pick up the phone itself.

"How can I help you, director?" she asked calmly whilst monitoring her staff working hard to maintain the developing situation around the globe.

"The Ameriqans have lodged a communiqué to use announcing their withdrawal. EVT is claiming Le Havré base has been captured by them, shall I summon the ambassador?" asked the nervous Director, his voice shaky on the phone.

"You'll do no such thing, we know what they're up to and we've got tabs on everything. No contact with the Ameriqans are required at this time other than assisting them clear their office in the DL building, clear?" she said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am." he said quickly before hanging up the phone. The Lieutenant waved his hand in a motion to get the Presidents attention as she was on her phone.

"Speak, Lt." she said.

"Cyber Force is ready, they're on the secure line." he replied as he held the wireless phone in his hand.

She quickly flickered over the phone settings that had been optimized for presidential use locating the secure line that had been set ready for her. - Secure Line CF-DG - she unhesitatingly clicked as she trained her eyes back to the screens in front of her, not even flinching once. She placed her hand over the ear piece to initiate the call.

"Director General?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Commence Order 37."

The phone hung up and there was an eerie silence in Seo's world, she stared at the screens calmly, anticipating the actions that would take place next. For once, she was thankful for having listened to her adviser during her period as structural overseer of all Eslovakian foreign bases to emplace emergency override measures that could be executed away from the designated areas. The screens flickered and activity came to life, the lights in the bases flickered the same way an alarm would, steam could be seen rising all across the areas and several huge chambers had their lights dimmed out. Le Havré base slowly activated itself to life from Eslovakia as the huge blast doors design to CBRN threats began closing in despite personnel being inside. The largest doors on the outside were too large to be armoured but their systems were automatic and were connected to the system. They slowly shut as the red flickering lights lit sections of the door. The cameras revealed guards both outside and inside with some even attempting to hold it open, all but in vain. The munitions storages inside the protected bunkers had already been sealed and access was impossible without the key, in which was electronic and that which the base commander possessed was no longer in effect. In all, despite being caught off guard by the downturn of events, the systems that President was once reluctant to have installed in all bases had proved to be of effective use. A small smirk appeared on her face as the text flickered onto the screen with the cameras 'Lock down complete'.

"Good. Very good..." she said to herself as she slightly slouched back a bit. Her face was pale and tired, skipped meals and sleep and a quick turn of events had tumbled her day but did her best to remain focus and determined throughout the job. Though how long for, that was to be determined.

by **Nueva San Cristobel** » Wed Jun 05, 2013 9:10 pm

State of Amazonas - Republic of San Cristobel
7th San Cristobellan Army - Corporal Armando Costa
High Noon - June 4th, 2018

Armando Costa ran with all the strength and speed with which his legs could carry him, adjusting his iron-grip around his FN-FNC rifle as he dodged behind a tree only to hear the hollow thunk of bullets land in the thing that shielded him from near certain death. He struggled to free himself of his battle-rigging and threw his pack down, it was nothing but weight at this point in his opinion as he and his men retreated across the hostile terrain of the Amazonian Rainforest; who at this point he was not sure how many yet lived though he knew for sure his medic was dead when he had personally watch the man get his skull eviscerated by a Californian sniper. A very scared looking private dove behind a tree near him and desperately looked at him for an answer; they were part of an advance force; two rifle regiments and an armored corps; specifically in their case they were attached to the 123rd Rifle Regiment of the 9th Battalion of the 7th Army and they had the illustrious suicide of blunting the Californians and that's where it had went wrong from the start.

Two hours before they had been advancing on their own border when artillery shells landed on to of their heads, three trucks had been outright incinerated while others were thrown off the road; the Guarani APC that Costa and his squadron were in was flipped over violently and he'd lost his commanding officer in that when the older man had broken his neck in the toss; defaulting command to the Corporal. They had, since then, been in a fighting-retreat against scout-snipers and recon units from the Californian army, the subsequent firefights had seen the death of his medic and at least two men, he had stopped counting after the third incursion.

"Shed your gear! It's only going to slow you down!" Costa bellowed across the distance and barely over the fire as he rounded the tree and let out a burst of fire from his rifle in no particular direction but forward. Whomever thought that the Amazon was an unconquerable barrier was being proven wrong as the Cristobellan units in near by Beunos Airea and Veracruz rushed to evacuate two of the largest population centers in the country; depending on regiments like Costa's to hold the line just long enough, it was a task that at the start had been daunting, and now felt impossible.

"Where the hell are we supposed to go!?" The Private; Martinho Simões; yelled across the distance as he himself let off his own stream of rifle-fire, to be answered with return fire that forced him back into the relative shelter of the tree shielding him.

"I don't fucking know!" Corporal Costa admitted sadly as he reloaded his rifle before he pulled one of his grenades from his belt, it was a smoke grenade, just what they needed at that time. "When I toss this, wait two seconds and then run for it!" He ordered the other soldier who nodded warily, the grenade went up and out from behind the tree, exploding outward when it hit the ground and releasing a gray cloud of smoke. "Now! Go go go!" The Corporal bellowed as the smoke expanded to cover their retreat; which lasted for a few more minutes of hard running before they came into a more open area of the forest, it wasn't truly open but the sun filtered down and the trees didn't knot the entire earth, so open enough. They were there for only a moment before several more soldiers joined them, all Cristobellan and ranging from the rank of Private to Sergeant, but not higher. "Where's the rest of your unit?" One of the Sergeants, Caetano Soares, asked quickly while what remained of the men took up defensive positions, digging down into the dirt with their shovels and simply hiding behind logs in some cases.

"So far as I know we're the only ones lef---" To disprove the Corporal before he finished several more Cristobellan soldiers came running in as though the devil himself were behind them, when the quick drone of the blades of a helicopter joined them in sound. "Take cover!" both Costa and Soares bellowed, with soldiers hitting the ground in every direction, crawling under leaves and to avoid the sight of roving eyes. More than one started praying, Costa among them, there was a roar from up above before a horrendous explosion and flash of fire high above the trees which were thankfully soaked by recent rains that they did not catch fire. There was a terrible crash and then, simple silence once more, for the moment, though how long it would last was not known.

State of Formosa - Republic of San Cristobel
City of Narava
Cristobellan 4th Army - Lieutenant General Calisto Rosario
High Noon - June 4th, 2018

The City of Narava, San Cristobel; was the home of forty seven thousand people in its main city and double that in its combined statistical area; it was the fourth largest city in San Cristobel, and it had been awoken in the morning by the thunder of guns and sounds of war. The local police had done an admiral job in starting the city's evacuation and it was thirty percent completed by the time the Cristobellan 4th Army had mobilized to the city in order to defend it, to the last man if necessary. Thousands of men hurriedly prepared defensible barricades, dug things so rudimentary as fox-holes and trenches; buildings were being cleared while demolition specialists wired them to be blown, if the city was lost, the Californians would have nothing to show for it but twisted glass and rubble.

Through the preparations the forward elements of the 4th Army under the command of Lieutenant General Calisto Rosario bucked against advancing Californian soldiers and assets; as with elsewhere in the nation they fought in a fighting-retreat; though dry land here gave out to ponderously large swamps prone to flooding, making the retreat methodical and the advance slow; garnering time for the cities of Narava and San Cristovao to prepare themselves and evacuate their citizens further into the country. Above the heads of those who prepared to fight to the death in the defense of their sacred soil were the sonic booms of Ameri-built Dassault Rafales dancing in deadly aerial duels against Californian F-15 and F-16 fighter jets; all the while both sides dodging ground-based SAMs and AAA fire while troop columns moved beneath them.

In all of this, General Rosario directed his engineers to work as fast as they could and ordered his troops into the defensive perimeter around and in the city; this was no Estainian war, both sides knew well the horrific power that urban warfare could give defenders, and cost aggressors. "It's going to be a long day..." The General thought grimly as he braced himself for the coming hours and days to follow.

State of Sinaloa - Republic of San Cristobel
City of San Paro
Cristobellan 5th Army - General Leonardo Túlio Santiago
High Noon - June 4th, 2018

All was quiet in San Paro when regarding the sounds of war, only the sound of jet planes clashing up above them all was heard occasionally in the form of sonic booms; for General Leonard Santiago however; this was but the calm before the storm. The township of Corpus Christi had surrendered without a shot fired, border guards and militia alike surrendering like cowards to the Californians, while elsewhere the bravest sons and daughters of San Cristobel laid down their very lives against the savages that now threatened their homeland. The Cristobellan 5th Army had been the only force prepared in any caliber for this event thrust into their chests; they had been deployed to provide security for the signing ceremony of the Treaty of San Paro, the document meant to stop this very thing from ever happening again, a lot of good a mere piece of paper did when thrown against the mantle of protocol.

General Santiago knew that just beyond the line of the horizon where the plains of Sinaloa opened up into the Californian Great Plains, there lay in wait for him the collected might of one of the most powerful nations in the world. He knew that he was outnumbered four to one, his own inorganic recon had told him this; and he held fast. While all of San Cristobel ran away, while they all threw themselves in the opposite direction of the enemy, he stood firm. For the twenty years he had been in the Cristobellan Army he had been told to run away when this day came, to flee before a lion like a mouse, but he would not, he refused. He had beneath him, forty thousand men, and before him, more than half a million men; while behind him, the splendor of his nation, his home and his family to defend before this horde of men and women thrown against him.

ARCOM had already demanded his retreat, he had told them; "You are asking me to run away, that is not acceptable; I and my men refuse to leave our people to die; if I survive, I accept any reprimand or court marshal levied against me, in the mean time; I have a war to fight." before he had cut all communication with central command and was now connected only by the proxy of the fact he remained in contact with the other branches of the Cristobellan military. Santiago drew a breath before he picked up his radio receiver that connected him to the four mechanized rifle brigades and two armored brigades that made up his 5th Army and he spoke to his men.

"My sons, my daughters. The eagle's wings extend over the falcon's nest; our brothers and sisters in arms flee before them to gather their strength, they do not fight, they surrender or they retreat. We do not; because behind us are the innocent children of San Cristobel, our wives and our children, our friends and our neighbors; our country of over two hundred million people, while before us, stands the wrath of God assembled into a single force. Many of us will die before the end of this day and the birth of the next one; but we will not surrender the field, the only way we retreat from this battle, is if the angels of God himself come to collect our immortal souls after our vessels have failed. We shall fight bitterly and with cunning, we shall do battle in the fields and in the streets, in the buildings and in the houses; and we shall never surrender; we shall remind them of their former nemesis in the Adrianic War, we shall fight with the strength of ten men, as all our people depend on us to hold this line, while our armies gather in the south to reclaim all that which California takes..." He paused, unsure of what to say next until it came out from his lips. "God stands with us; may we perform well for his glory."

by **-Costa Luna-** » Sat Jun 08, 2013 2:00 am

The Kingdom of Costa Luna
Central Costa Luna - Neuva Barcelona
11:00 Hours

The Lunar Royal Palace was in an uproar for lack of a better word. A servant ducked as another priceless vase flew passed her head; flung across the room by an openly hostile and angry monarch who had at the moment, no regard for her help or anyone else who dared to enter her presence. Her Royal Majesty Queen Rosalinda Maria Montoya Fiore was not at all pleased; quite the inverse she was...blind with rage, seeing red and all manner of other metaphor to her current disposition. The help retreated from the room, partly out of no desire to be injured and partly out of fear, they'd never seen her angry before... Ever, much less to this level of pure unadulterated rage.

It was no secret in the Lunar Nobility that Rosalinda was fond of the now former President of California, an affection never returned by the other, much to the dejection of the young monarch; but that did not stop her from going over the edge when the Californian Ambassador to Costa Luna had entered her office and in essence, announced the death of the symbol of her affection and the subsequent action taken by California in response to it. The Ambassador had not had the chance to ask for anything from Costa Luna before Rosalinda had started breaking down, first it was tears, shattered sobbing, now it was rage; and soon enough it broke down into just languishing after she crumpled to a heap on the floor, three precious Jiang Dynasty vases lighter than before her fit.

She didn't bother to stand as the looming, and at that point, godlike figure of the Ambassador towered over her, which he would've been even if she were standing at an impressive six foot five. "Whatever you need, if it is within my power, it will be done, it will be done."

"Ma'am." The Ambassador said in a half-consoling tone. "I need your armies."

The Kingdom of Costa Luna
Northern Costa Luna - Her Majesty's Naval Base Rubilijar
12:00 Hours

There was a certain glory to absolutism, to autocracy; there were no parliaments to deal with, no congresses to beg permission of, there were but orders, orders given, and orders followed; all were subservient to the will of a single person, who at the moment, was bordering on insane and distraught; but gave out orders none the less; war for California, meant war for Costa Luna. Alarms whined, filling the air with shrill electromechanical cries as men scurried about in one of only three faculties that housed the Lunar Royal Navy while similarly across the country the Lunar Royal Army and Air Force made ready for some great action at the behest of their monarch.

The base was not a huge thing like the likes of the Orange City Naval Air Station or Norfolk Naval Station in the FSC, instead it was a smaller sort of thing, half-buried into one of Costa Luna's many cliff-mountains; designed to hold the small submarine fleet of the Lunar Armada. In their various pens sat twelve Australian built Collins-class submarines, and one ominous Californian built Ohio-class submarine, while not the largest of submarine naval forces, it was enough for Costa Luna to defend itself, and in a more limited application, wage war in foreign waters. It was that limited application of foreign war that the alarms around the base were going off for; the Lunar Navy was preparing for war, for the first time in over a hundred years.

As the process of readying themselves had been going on for well over three hours now, the first Lunar submarines Almirante Eutropio Gustavo, Almirante León Luis Rojas, Almirante Quirino Matías and ex-Californian Almirante Fulgencio Fran De La Fuente were released from their pens, heading out to sea before the attack submarines formed into a triad around their very large and bloated comrade before with the bellowing of more alarms, not audible from shore, precluded their diving down below the waters of the Mare Neptunis. Following them a few minutes later were the submarines Almirante Jerónimo Emigdio Quirós, Almirante Cristián Rico Menendez, Almirante Claudio Vicario, Almirante Clemente Telmo María, and Almirante Danilo Quirino Santos; all of which went in an entirely other direction than their earlier compatriots; submerging someways away from the island as the others did as well. The remainder of the submarines stayed buried under the mountain, waiting for orders.

The Kingdom of Costa Luna
Central Costa Luna - Her Majesty's Air Force Base Torrejón
12:00 Hours

The Lunar Royal Air Force was small, the smallest branch of the Royal Lunar Military in fact. It was supplied in its roster of aircraft primarily from Canada in the Britannic Commonwealth, and to a lesser extent, California. It wasn't capable of the transcontinental flights that the FSAF or Eslovakian Air Force were, but it was a competent force all the same, dynamite came in small packages, as they said. The best representation of this perhaps being that the four concrete runways of Torrejón Air Base were filled with several CF-18 fighters of the air force, having been taxied there after the orders came out to prepare for conflict. Behind these prepared planes there was another flight of CF-18's also waiting to take off; waiting in a silence for their predecessors on the runways to take off, which they do so in a short order once they received necessary clearance. In a short manner of minutes, there were eight CF-18s in the air over Costa Luna, though they did not remain there for long. Fitted with long-range tanks (at the cost of some of their munitions) these planes were to their way out of Lunar Air Space and towards the distant Cristobellan state of Magellan's Island; the target of some of Costa Luna's planned operations, the target they could reach and not be overwhelmed in.

The Kingdom of Costa Luna
Southern Costa Luna - Her Majesty's Naval Base San Fernando
12:00 Hours

San Fernando Naval Base was a sprawling mass of concrete, glass, and steel that covered about the same space in terms of land area as Bethesda, Maryland; it absolutely consumed a part of Costa Luna and was both the headquarters of the Royal Lunar Navy and the Californian 7th Fleet. As with most of Costa Luna's military installations it was buzzing, unlike the rest of them; the impressive and awe-inspiring visage of a Californian aircraft carrier; the FSS William Halsey was pulling out of port, surrounded by tiny tugs to help it along while lighter escort vessels and logistical support ships of the Federated States Navy got under way behind her. Around them the smaller Lunar Armada moved as well, a great combination of Iroquois-class destroyers, Halifax-class frigates and Costa Luna's cruiser force; an inspiring four Ticonderoga-class cruisers all in an organized ordered chaos to set to sea; one element in the defense of its nations honor, and the other along for the ride because they were told.

by **Eslovakia** » Sat Jun 08, 2013 10:51 am

Norra Ground Force Air Base, Underground Bunker, State of Amazonas
Republic of San Cristobel, Rostil —June 4th, 2018

General Jakob Bengt Åkerberg paced nervously around the glowing table that depicted ground and air operations around the Amzaonian jungle. Areas of interests, casualty rates, air operations, artillery, ELINT, SIGINT, everything a commander needed to know to plan out an effective military operation. But this was different, he had taken a huge gamble with the forward deployed force of 20,000 men and aircraft in the air base. He deployed them to front line operations and executed parts of a highly classified operation before receiving permission from High Command, he was now gambling with his rank. All the aircraft in Norra Ground Force Air Base had been quickly shifted out and re-based in Arlinge Western Military Command for better base protection and to be away from the from lines of action. Safer deeper inside the IADS net than on its front lines, the thought that had been circling his mind.

The eerie silence in the room was broken when the computer buzzed to life, the screen flickered to several lines of text with a default border template outlining the secure channel of origin. That one line of text was all he needed to break a smile on his face and give out official orders...'Operation Yehuda is go'

The Eslovakian Forces in the Amazonian AO had already completed their mission objectives of entering the vast rainforest, the Eslovakian Foreign Force was already several kilometres in front acting as the recon force for the men behind having been deployed by Falken dropships into San Cristobellan positions. They were by no means to engage the enemy but to lay traps and gather intelligence under strict orders to avoid enemy contact at all costs. Their ghillie suits and oversized equipment and additional gear would all play a fundamental role on the 1000 man force spread out across the front line to make sure the enemy did not traverse the forest with ease. With years of training in the same jungle and combat experience from Chopinburg forest, morale of completing operational objectives was high.

The roads around the forest were blocked and appropriately trapped when the San Cristobellan forces retreated to prevent any enemy armour or the ABV from possibly breaking into the lines. The Pztb-1 CRAM was parked around concentrations of Eslovakian forces but ready to move within split second if compromised. The radars on the vehicles were only used in bursts to prevent detection from enemy ELINT operations but still remain capable of intercepting tactical munitions incoming to target threat areas. Though limited in range, it was backed up by the highly agile LVRS 10 SAM missile also designed to intercept munitions from artillery shells to high performance cruise missiles within a 23km radius. These air defence systems were all dotted around the jungle, generously spread out and utilizing guerilla tactics in order to elude a vastly large enemy the heavily outnumbered the defending Eslovakians.

The battle air space was protected by the IADS designed to intercept stealth targets, heavy lessons were learnt from Operation Rubicon and the strike on Valhalla, the Eslovakians were keen on preventing such tragedies again and Karlberg Industries AB had worked on developing instruments ready to detected the new threats today. There would no enemy air superiority and plans had already been drawn up to deal with the highly manoeuvrable F-22's an the high speed F-23's in the air space above the jungle.

Two Austerbeck Cruisers and two Nordenskiöld destroyers were off the coast ready to provide close fire support to the ground force. The Nordenskiöld which incorporated stealth technologies made no attempts to activate their radars but relied on the Austerbecks radar feeds, the enemy would only see 2 ships in the AO, the intended deception.

The General looked upon the table which outlined the area of operations through the projectors with a slight smile. He pointed towards Arlinge Western Military Command on the map, gesturing with two fingers which zoomed the map in and dropping a menu. "Contact AWMC, Supreme." ordered the General to the automated system. Within a second, the screen above displayed the base commander for Arlinge.

"Yes, General?" asked the commander, his face having clearly been wiped off sweat and the look on his face depicting the man who lost frequent sleep over his job.

"Yehuda is a go. Refer to section 6." ordered the General as her peered over the bases inventory which now boasted 16 VLO bomber aircraft after the other bases had shifted their equipment according to protocols.

"With pleasure sir!" replied the base commander as he saluted, his face sparkling with new energies upon the news. "För Eslovakia is tiden, over and out!"

Arlinge Western Military Command, Air Field, San Cristobellan Island
Republic of San Cristobel, Rostil —June 4th, 2018

The Ragnar VLO bomber and the unmmaned OFV 10 Skugga bomber which was capable of carrying one ARLS. The crews inside the hardened aircraft hangars began working around the clock to equip the bombers with the necessary munitions in order to carry out their operational objectives. The indigenous bomber Ragnar could hold 2 ARLS which were capable of holding 16 of the advanced cruise missiles, SMR-10 that were stealth in nature and capable of deep penetration into enemy air space. Ragnar's unmanned counter part, the OFV-10 Skugga was smaller with the capacity to carry 8 of those missiles. Their operational objectives was yet to be disclosed to the pilots but the orders inside the aircraft had already been placed. Strictly to be open only in the air at the final way point. Launching the bombers now would be suicidal, they would have to wait till cloudy weather came over or until dusk arrived over the souther Californian border for maximum efficiency. The same pilots had struck the Birkanian homeland in operation Rubicon with great success but with small errors, now it was up to them to adapt to the lessons learnt and carry them out once more. By the book and by experience.

by **Itailian Maifias** » Tue Jun 18, 2013 12:11 pm

"Fear always springs from ignorance."

— Ralph Waldo Emmerson

The Acknowledgment of the Ignored
Evening Star 17, 2E70
Fort Patronus
Caestrium, Itailia
0600 Hours

It was still in the early morning hours in Acrium, the sun was just starting to begin it's eternal hike around the planet. The city of Caestrium was only just beginning to turn the wheels of production, streets and roads were beginning to clog up as people made their way to their various places of employment, eager or not so eager for another day on the job. Morale was slightly up, it had been two weeks since the New Era, and economic prosperity for the Empire on a whole was seeing an return unprecedented since before the days of the Great Sundering. The man responsible for much of Acrium's success, it's recent prestige, fame, and wealth, was already hard at work, located several levels below the earth in the OSAC[Occasion and Situation Assessment Center], his fifty year old eyes pouring over the holographic data screens presented in front of him.

On his left was the commander of the military forces in Acrium, one General Silvus Tergis Evonious, and on his right was the commander of the 7th Western Black Fleet, the Fleet tasked with the protection of Acrium and her lands and the only naval asset in the region for Itailia, it was commanded by Admiral Gnaeus Pontidius Mauricius , an aging man in his fifties, he made up some of the most senior staff on the Admirality Board and was one of four full fledged Admirals within the Navy. Both men were here to assess their civilian counterpart on the situation developing on the western continent, a war that had red flags, literally, all over it. Normally, Acrium wouldn't care less whether or not California or San Cristobel duked it out, their diminished trading capacity would mean more economic chances for Acrium's developing Merchant Fleet. Galus looked over the two holographic blue ships, similiar in appearance to Eslovakian destroyers, which also represented the Eslovakian fleet that was now beginning to surround the nation of San Cristobel. Along it's border with California, he saw the divisional symbols that showed the positions of the Eslovakian and Cristobel forces that were now taking their defensive positions, ready to confront what ever assault California threw at them. He tapped two outzoom buttons and the map refocused to show imagery of the entire region, with nations involved in the conflict either highlighted in red for hostile and the Californians or blue for allied and the Cristobels. California and it's neighbor Costa Luna were colored red, while Cristobel and Eslovakia were colored blue. Amerique was also flashing red, and that nation was the one that concerned Galus the most.

" General, let me see a copy of the Amerique declaration of war will you?"

Silvus picked up a manilla folder that was laying on the edge of the projector and handed it to Galus, a black and white copy of the official declaration of war. His trained eyes scanned over the document once more, skipping right over the header full of egotistical jargon and diving towards the content filled center. Speaking to no one in particular " It's rather vaguely worded. Just declaring war on the League, does he mean all of us or just the DL forces?"

" I really wouldn't take the risk with that second option Your Grace. Frumentarii units on the ground already observed the Ameri units stationed on the League base in Amerique betray the tenants of hospitality and seize the base and it's assets. There's now five thousand prisoners in this war, and their next target could be us, we're less then five hundred kilometers away."

" We can't risk a rescue operation General, as much as I would like to, I've already been on the horn with the Eslovakian President. She's concerned us sending a BattleGroup over would simply give the Ameriqans cause to shoot everyone they see. We are however deploying the Frumentarii."

Silvus and the Admiral exchanged nervous glances with each other before the later spoke up " Sire, is that the wisest course of action? The Frumentarii's existence has been denied by this nation for centuries, doing the opposite now would jeopardize the entire organization."

Galus looked at them with a small grin on his face " Which is why I ordered them to wear ERAT uniforms and gear I had dropped off in a pod near their location. Basic premise of their operation will be to observe the Ameriqans holding the base hostage and the status of the Eslovakian forces stationed there. Meanwhile, you and the Admiral will take your forces and head to Cristobel to support Democratic League objectives."

The Admiral nodded and walked off and towards the exit doors, presumably to prepare his men. Intelligence on California was weak but all sources indicated that while they would catch the island by surprise, it was still most likely in all regards a fortress, and the losses would be high and the combat difficult. The invasion was not meant to succeed, in the terms that if they did take the island, it would be a huge boon, but the invasion was meant mainly as a distraction measure to redirect Californian troops from the Cristobel front to help defend a piece of their homelands. The Navy and Legions would give it their all, and that is all they could ask for.

What had worried Galus was the directive that came down from the Department of Defense; to redirect the submarine unit attached in Acrium to just inside Californian waters. On top of the fifteen SSBN's attached to his fleet, the 12th Western Gold Fleet, IGC has redirected two Scylla-class submarines to his command last week, which did not bode well at all, for anybody.

by **Bereia** » Fri Jul 19, 2013 12:50 pm

IC:

United States of Bereia
Charlottesville, D.C. - June 4th, 2018.
11:00 AM.

"In brief, Mr. President, it would seem that the peace between the Federated States of California and the Federal Republic of San Cristobel has fallen apart. At approximately 4:30 AM on June 4th, President Julia Sanchez was returning home via helicopter from the city of San Paro, where negotiations with President Molina had just been concluded. Intelligence gathered by our sources show a rocket or some kind of a missile striking Marine One in mid-flight, forcing the aircraft into a crash en route to the airport. President Sanchez is now missing or dead."

President of the United States Dalton Barbosa sat quietly and watched as the briefing officer, a heavyset uniformed Navy captain, clicked the control in his hand and caused the view on the screen in the briefing room to shift. The seriousness of the situation was such that his mind barely registered the absurdity of referring to the present day as though it were in the past already. This was not a good time for that kind of thing, especially not if the pictures now on the screen were anything to go by.

"Approximately five hours later," the captain went on. "Acting President Wayra Tenskwatawa sent a message to Brasilia declaring war, demanding immediate surrender, and basically promising an invasion of the Federal Republic if her demands were not met. This was approximately two hours ago. Since then, Californian military elements have been reported crossing the borderline. We can hazard only a guess as to their overall plans as we were not made privy to their intentions, but the maps here show projections of known F.S.C. movements as of now."

Looking at the map shown by the projector, the President tried to assess what he was seeing. It was a map of the borderlands out between California and San Cristobel, with arrows here and there heading south over the national boundary lines. Attached to each was a small box with names and numbers of units known or suspected to be in the area by intelligence.

"Have our Embassy and Consulates all reported in?" the President asked. The captain was silent, but the reply came quickly enough as Amaya Tagliaferro, the Secretary of State, spoke up instead.

"They have, Mr. President, all within the last two hours. They also report numerous phone calls, e-mails, and texts requesting information through formal channels, as well as an unusually high and rising number of visits by U.S. nationals in the region. Ambassador Pereira has ordered all Embassy personnel to bring in their dependents for the time being, and she's requesting instructions."

"Very well," the President said. "Amaya, please direct Ambassador Pereira to do what she can to contain the situation for the moment. We will see about dependent evacuation before long. For the moment, have we heard anything out of Hiawathiopolis directed at us?"

"Not a peep," Tagliaferro said. "Even so, they seem to believe they've been attacked here, so they may seek to invoke the defense pact we signed with them. If they choose to do that, look to see it happen today or tomorrow."

"Let's beat them to the punch if we can," the President replied. "Send word to our Ambassador in Hiawathiopolis to see their President while I arrange to address Congress."

With that, the meeting was over, everybody involved moving to get to their next task of the day.

A Sound of Thunder [Rostil - Closed]

A Sound of Thunder [Rostil - Closed]

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